


The Makings of a Leader

by Superhero_Wannabe



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, Backstory, Friendship, Gen, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 02:44:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16945473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Superhero_Wannabe/pseuds/Superhero_Wannabe
Summary: Spot might've dreamed of being the leader of Brooklyn one day, but never did he imagine it would happen like this. He never thought he'd have to lose everything to get to the top.





	The Makings of a Leader

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I saw this post on Instagram from someone I follow, and I just felt so compelled to write for it, so here we are. The post is linked below!
> 
> https://www.instagram.com/p/BrLSx8Vjv89/?utm_source=ig_share_sheet&igshid=mahc64243adh
> 
> I kinda just blindly typed this out on my phone at like midnight, so I hope it's okay! The idea is from sneakystorms, so go check her out on Instagram! All of her work is incredible!

"It's gonna be okay, Spot. Take care of them all for me, all right?"

Those words rang through his mind, repeating themselves over and over until it began to make him dizzy. Spot had just seen a bruised, bloody, and downright broken looking Ace being hauled off to who knows where. He got shoved aside and pushed to the ground by the bulls when he tried to chase after him. The damn bulls. Who were they to take his brother away? The one guy that seemed to care about him when his own family didn't? The guy that found him on the streets all those years ago? The guy that gave him enough to help him survive when he barely had enough for himself. He was the one that had taught him how to sell in the first place.

He hadn't even realized the hot tears running down his face or that those strangled screams were his until he couldn't keep up with the wagon anymore. His legs were burning and the wagon was no longer in sight. The wagon that had him. It was all his fault. He shouldn't have been so stupid.

Will he ever come back?

Spot couldn't help but ask himself that question as he felt his insides slowly turn in on themselves. He felt his cheeks, surprised that he had been crying, and slowly wiped the tears away with his fingers. His eyes were still wide with shock as he trudged back toward the lodging house. He could feel a cold seeping through his bones. His legs didn't feel like his own anymore and he didn't understand how he was still walking. He felt hollow. The only thing left of him at that moment was the body he was housed in and the deep ache in his chest.

What was he going to tell the boys? His boys, now.

Eventually, it just felt like everything had stopped. His eyes went dry, his throat closed, the noise from the city had quieted, and he felt detached from his body. He didn't even see anything as he opened the door to the lodging house and pushed his way in. He didn't hear the loud, rambunctious boys suddenly go dead quiet at the look on his face. He didn't see them slowly crowd around him, hoping for answers. He didn't hear the questions a few of them dared to ask. He didn't even hear his own voice as he opened his mouth and gave a brief answer, hopefully to one of their questions. For the longest time, he didn't even know how he made it home that night, let alone up the stairs and into Ace's old room, that was now his.

Two years later and Spot was the feared king of Brooklyn. Part of why he was so undisputed as leader was because he had been appointed by Ace himself. Anyone that had had their doubts quickly silenced them because the day after Ace's disappearance, Spot took charge like nothing had changed. He'd hardened himself because he had to. His boys needed him, whether he was ready or not. He couldn't let a bunch of kids starve just because he couldn't handle his emotions. He would deal with them later and on his own time. But right then, he was needed, and he was sure as hell going to do his job. He'd already let Ace down once, the least he could do was the one thing he'd asked of him.

Spot ran an immpresively tight ship. He wasn't going to let anyone make some stupid mistake like he did. And while the first week didn't go as smoothly as he had hoped, some of the boys around his age who had been close with Ace as well, gave quiet hints and suggestions to Spot. One of them being Hotshot, who quickly became Spot's second. After that, Spot was a force to be reckoned with. He had strict schedules for the Newsies and he would assign them selling areas every day. He knew where all the best traffic was and told the boys what to expect during certain hours of the day. He would do Ace proud and he would take care of his boys.

Because he had to.

For him.

The strike had finally been settled. Now, hours after, Spot allowed a grin to creep its way onto his face as he celebrated with his Brooklyn boys, as well as the Manhattan ones, and every other working kid in New York. The crowd dispersed a bit once it began to get later, but most kids were too happy and content with general dancing, singing, and celebrating in the square to actually leave yet. Spot was sitting a ways off, leaning back against a wall and smiling, watching as his boys celebrated. They deserved it. They deserved that win. Spot couldn't help himself as he let his eyes wander over the crowd, peering at people's faces. There was no way, and he couldn't allow himself to hope, but after hearing the Refuge got closed down, it didn't hurt to at least check, right? He slowly swept his gaze through the crowd until he came across a tall boy picking his way through the crowd with the brightest grin on his face. Spot squinted his eyes at him.

There was no way.

The boy was lean, but you could easily tell that he was solid muscle. He had shaggy hair and that same stupid long sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He had that same stupid checkered hat, and those same horrible socks, and that same stupid bandana tied around his bicep and rolled up shirt sleeve- 

It was him.

He looked different, but it was him. He knew it. He could feel it.

Spot felt his eyes widen as he practically bored holes in the poor guy's face. The boy finally looked up and away from a conversation he was having with another excited boy. As he looked up, he made eye contact with Spot, his own eyes widening as well. His grin fell from his face as he finally made his way through the crowd, standing a few feet away from the shorter boy. All time seemed to stop and the only thing Spot could hear was his own blood rushing through his ears until something dared to break the silence.

"Spot? Is that you?"

The boy in front of him quickly putting on an even bigger smile than before, if that was even possible.  
He didn't care that he was in front of every newsboy in New York.  
He didn't care if the Delanceys could see him.  
He didn't care if his boys would give him hell later.  
He launched himself at Ace, arrms wrapping so tightly around the boy's abdomen that he was certain he could hear a crunch. He even picked him up off the ground a little, he was hugging him so hard.  
Ace let out a loud laugh that Spot had waited too long to hear.

"Look at youse! All grown up on me, huh?"

Ace hugged him back twice as hard and all Spot could do was look up at him. He couldn't be bothered to stop the massive grin on his face. The only thing that mattered was that he was home.

His brother was home.

He had many, many more scars than when he left, and he might've been a little thinner than Spot would've liked, but he was home. Messing up his hair and stealing his hat to place on his own head like he didn't just get back from who-knows-where. Smiling down at him like he wasn't now the most-feared Newsie in all of New York. Hugging him back so tightly you wouldn't be able to tell it was his fault he'd gotten taken away in the first place.  
He was home.  
And that was all that mattered.


End file.
